Running News Daily

Your physiology is beautifully unique. I sound like John Mayer if he was a physical therapist. Our bodies are wonderlands, even if our glutes are unmaintained landfills.

The individual uniqueness of athletes creates a problem, though. How can we understand our physiology in the broader context of training theory when every variable is a bell curve across the population? General equations work if you're smack-dab in the middle of the bell curve thiccness, but can be actively wrong and counterproductive as you venture into the standard deviation hinterlands.

Consider the equation that many of you might have heard about heart rate: 180 beats per minute minus age = approximately aerobic threshold, or the intensity level that serves as a top-end barrier for easy/steady running that should encompass around 80% of your training volume. While that equation is generally useful, it can be actively useless for individuals, especially aging athletes who are highly trained and have a much higher aerobic threshold than the equation would predict.

For me, the equation caps my easy runs at 145 heart rate. My actual aerobic threshold is 152 beats per minute in running (and 150 beats per minute in biking). In practice, that's almost a one-minute-per-mile difference in output. Training from a general equation would prevent me from accruing benefits from steadier paces, and I'd probably be slower at everything.

raining zones from your watch can also be atrocious. In the last few months, I have helped a few hundred listeners of our podcast calculate their heart rate zones (our episode on heart rate zones is here). And a lesson I learned is that some of the watch brands use algorithms that are less accurate than U2 in Spanish class. Zone Uno, Zone Dos, Zone Tres, Zone Catorce, Zone Biblioteca, etc. Some of the watch zones are set so low that I have no idea what they could possibly be measuring. 

So today, let's look at one simple way to calculate your heart rate zones to help you calibrate your training intensity. Knowing your intensity ranges is helpful because it optimizes your metabolic fitness, allowing the body to burn more fat at higher outputs, while supporting mitochondrial proliferation and efficiency, allowing both higher and lower intensities to take less energy. Disclaimer: exercise physiology terminology is always subject to evolving debate, particularly on Twitter (the world's town square, if the square was also where the town put the raw sewage). Here is my favorite infographic ever on the overlap of these principles, from Fluid Athletics (follow them on Instagram here). 

What Are Heart Rate Zones?

We'll be using the traditional Five-Zone model, contrasted with the Three-Zone model used in most training research, but it helps to understand both and how they interact. Heart rate is best thought of as a proxy for lactate concentrations. To simplify it a ton, lactate is produced as our bodies use glucose to fuel ATP production during glycolysis. Lactate is a fuel source for cells, and it's accompanied by a hydrogen ion that changes muscle pH and contributes to fatigue. A 2018 review in Cell Metabolism described the lactate shuttle where the cells use lactate for energy. If this shuttling mechanism is overstressed, lactate levels and fatigue rise and exercise becomes less sustainable. A great overview by Dr. Howard Luks is here.

When lactate concentrations begin to rise, intensity switches from easy to moderate, an inflection point known as LT1, broadly overlapping with aerobic threshold where athletes go from primarily burning fat to primarily burning glycogen. And when lactate levels rise more steeply at higher intensities, intensity transitions from moderate to hard, an inflection point known as LT2, broadly overlapping with traditional lactate threshold (or critical velocity, depending on the method of calculation). That encompasses the 3-Zone model used in research:

Those zones are used in research to determine intensity distribution. While these breakdowns are gross approximations, it can help to put some numbers on paper to get your bearings (all of these numbers have big error bars). 

So if we're using heart rate to approximate lactate and the associated physiological impacts of fatigue, why don't we just use lactate? Good question, you article-ruining jerk. In a perfect world, athletes may decide to prick themselves for blood lactate readings with every interval like they're Norwegian vampires. Practically, though, there's a lactate learning curve in the best of times that can lead to inaccurate data, and in the worst of times it can take some of the spontaneous artistry out of daily training. You can probably tell I'm scared of blood, needles, and vampires (whether traditional or sexy). 

But have blood-free hope! Using the method in the article, I have approximated zones for professional athletes that have later been validated in lab tests with small enough margins of error to be useful. However, it's key to get a full lab test for truly accurate data. Heart rate without lactate, metabolic, and/or ventilatory lab tests is like determining the time from where the sun is in the sky. With context clues, you can be close, but you wouldn't want to use it to cook a turkey.

Five-Zone Training Model

Now, let's finally get to the Five-Zone heart rate model that is used in most training approaches. The Three-Zone model is overlaid with green, yellow, and red (again, there is debate around the exact breakdown, particularly with the Zone three/Zone four delineation).

There are a few ways to set the zones, but I see the most repeatability and accuracy with the Lactate Threshold Heart Rate method pioneered by legendary coach Joe Friel. As outlined in Training Peaks, he suggests that athletes "do a 30-minute time trial all by yourself (no training partners and not in a race). Again, it should be done as if it was a race for the entire 30 minutes. But at 10 minutes into the test, click the lap button on your heart rate monitor. When done, look to see what your average heart rate was for the last 20 minutes." 

I like athletes to do the test on uphills, where they won't be limited by neuromuscular and biomechanical factors if they don't have a ton of speed training. If it wasn't a truly hard effort or your heart rate takes a lot of time to increase across an effort, you can take the average heart rate from a section as short as 10 minutes. Because this isn't an exact measurement like in a lab test, think of it as an art that is useful in understanding your body, rather than attempting to find a correct answer like high school algebra.

For an easy way to scrub complex data files with HR variation, you can use the Strava Sauce browser plug-in, highlight the area you want to examine, and it will give averages without ever lapping the watch. When I calculate zones for athletes, I have found that you can also approximate LTHR from almost any hard workout with intervals 3 minutes or over by looking for spots in the file where heart rate stabilizes for 15-30 seconds before rising to less sustainable levels (and sometimes falling back toward that baseline in longer efforts). Be careful about using data from very hot days or long races over 90 minutes, when heart rate can sometimes be sustained above Friel's LTHR in ways that are not mirrored by the underlying physiology. 

A big key here: the data needs to be accurate. Chest-straps are ideal for these purposes, and if you are doing a workout to set heart rate zones, it's worth using the chest strap even if it feels like you're getting the heimlich maneuver from a weak octopus. While wrist-straps are rapidly improving in accuracy, there is extreme variation among athletes/watch brands. For example, my Garmin 745 seems to work really well in most circumstances (see this beautiful graph of a threshold workout). But other athletes don't have that success, and sometimes they send me heart rate files that look like Bitcoin price graphs (we are not sure why it's going up and down, but we can be pretty sure it's nefarious). 

How to Set Your Heart Rate Zones

Once you have the LTHR number, it's time to set those elusive zones. We're at another controversial point where the exact percentages are subject to extreme debate. The problem: when you validate heart rate data with lab tests, individual physiology varies substantially. LTHR narrows down that physiological variation to get an idea of zones, but the exact delineation depends on training history, muscle fiber typology, metabolic context, astrological sign, etc. Don't even get me started on Scorpios.

Here are the percentages that Megan and I like to use:

Let's dig into an example from my data. In February, I did a virtual bike race up a mountain. Using the Strava Sauce plug-in and highlighting the final 20 minutes of that hard effort, my LTHR was 172. While there is variance across sports and my heart rate is higher with running, that means my current zones for biking are approximately:

Your LTHR may increase with training and it will drop with age. Athletes are often between 165 and 175, though in professional athletes, I have seen numbers as high as 189 and as low as 152. You can see why dialing in your unique physiology is so important. An athlete with an LTHR of 160 needs to cap most of their easy runs at 140 heart rate (top end of Zone 2). Meanwhile, an athlete with an LTHR of 180 can go all the way up to 157! Often, everything about those athletes can look the same from the outside-same age, same PRs, same training, same potential. But they have very different hearts.

How To Use Your Heart Rate Zones

There are two places where having a general feel for your personal heart rate zones can be most helpful: understanding your Zone 2 (with LT1 as a cap) and determining the sustainability of longer efforts. First, let's break down how to think about each of the zones:

Knowing that Zone two cutoff can help calibrate an athlete's effort so they understand what terms like "easy," "steady," and "moderate" actually mean. Spot-checking heart rate periodically on harder efforts can ensure that athletes aren't going too hard, pushing everything into Zone five and reducing aerobic adaptations. I love athletes to get a feel for how high their heart rate gets on uphills especially, since excessive effort on ups can lead to reduced endurance and race performance. Zone 3 is your friend, in moderation. Zone four is your acquaintance. And spending too much time with Zone five will end with you folded up in a car trunk somewhere outside Las Vegas.

Takeaway

The big takeaway is that heart rate is just a proxy for fatigue processes, especially when calculated outside of a lab. The numbers can vary by the day, and they change across training blocks. Temperature, stress, caffeine, and political news all impact the numbers enough that caring too much about a few beats per minute is unhelpful. The day I first heard the nickname "Meatball Ron," I was in Zone three while sitting on the couch.

Instead, view heart rate as a way to calibrate your physiology in a general way, spot-checking your perceived exertion so that you know what you think your body is doing generally aligns with what your body is actually doing. Once an athlete dials in heart rate, I like them to look at it once every couple weeks during a run, and solely after-the-fact on other runs (if at all), never investing too much in small changes. Heart rate sometimes takes a while to respond, so I find it's rarely useful on shorter intervals.

If you train within the correct general range of intensities, whether guided by heart rate, lactate, and/or perceived exertion, you can improve output at Zone two and Zone three heart rates in particular, and because those efforts are more sustainable metabolically, you'll excel in races. You definitely don't need to have a heart rate monitor to achieve those goals. But you do need to have a good feel for your unique physiology. 

All of our bodies can be well-calibrated wonderlands. We sometimes just need a little bit of the sexiest thing of all: data.

Long before he became the fastest man in history, before the Olympic gold medals, world records, and global superstardom, Usain Bolt was simply a gifted teenager with extraordinary speed and limitless potential. In 2002, on the track at Kingston's National Stadium in Jamaica, the world witnessed the first chapter of a story that would forever change athletics.

At just 15 years old, Bolt lined up for the men's 200 metres at the World Junior Championships with the weight of expectation resting on young shoulders. Competing before a passionate home crowd, the Jamaican prodigy produced a performance that instantly captivated the athletics world. Crossing the finish line in 20.61 seconds, he became the youngest athlete ever to win the men's 200m title at the championships.

It was far more than a gold medal. It was the moment the world realised that a once-in-a-generation talent had arrived.

Bolt's victory in Kingston marked the beginning of one of the greatest careers in sporting history. Over the years that followed, he rewrote the record books, dominated the Olympic Games and World Championships, and transformed sprinting into a global spectacle through his breathtaking speed, infectious personality, and unrivalled confidence. His legacy continues to inspire young athletes across the globe, many of whom dream of following the same path he once began as a teenager.

This week, that dream comes alive once again as the World Athletics U20 Championships take centre stage at the iconic Hayward Field in Eugene, Oregon. The venue has already witnessed the birth of future superstars. In 2014, it was where Britain's Dina Asher-Smith and Uganda's Joshua Cheptegei captured their first global titles, launching careers that would later produce world championships, Olympic medals, and lasting legacies in athletics.

Twelve years later, another generation arrives in Eugene hoping to create its own defining moment.

Among the brightest young talents is Great Britain's Jake Odey-Jordan, the 200m bronze medallist from Lima who now owns the European U20 100m record after an astonishing 10.01-second performance. He enters the championships eager to build on his growing reputation as one of Europe's most exciting young sprinters.

The United States will look to Tate Taylor, who has already made history as the first American high school athlete to break the 20-second barrier for the 200 metres. Fresh from a Diamond League victory in a sensational 19.75 seconds, he arrives in Eugene carrying the momentum of one of the most remarkable junior seasons ever recorded.

Jamaica, the nation that introduced the world to Usain Bolt, will once again have high hopes through Shanoya Douglas. The talented sprinter has established herself as one of the championship's leading contenders after producing lifetime bests of 10.98 seconds for the 100m and 22.11 for the 200m this season.

History has repeatedly shown that the World U20 Championships are far more than a junior competition. They are often the first chapter in the careers of future Olympic champions, world record holders, and global icons. Every generation arrives with ambitious dreams, but only a select few leave having announced themselves to the world.

No one can say with certainty whether the next Usain Bolt will emerge this week. Greatness cannot be predicted, and legends are never manufactured. Yet every legendary career begins with a single breakthrough performance.

For Bolt, that defining moment came in Kingston in 2002.

Now, under the famous lights of Hayward Field, another group of gifted teenagers stands ready to chase history. Somewhere among them could be the next athlete whose name will inspire the world for years to come.

"An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head." More than seventy years after those words were spoken, they remain among the most powerful messages ever shared in distance running. They are often quoted as simple motivation, but behind them lies a remarkable story of sacrifice, courage, conviction, and an unwavering belief that true greatness is never measured by financial reward.

Few athletes have left a legacy as enduring as Emil Zátopek. Known around the world as "The Czech Locomotive" for his relentless determination and unmistakable running style, he redefined what was possible in endurance racing. His legendary performance at the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki still ranks among the greatest achievements in athletics history. In the space of just nine days, he captured Olympic gold in the 5,000 meters, the 10,000 meters, and, incredibly, the marathon—a race he had never attempted before.

Yet the world in which Zátopek competed was vastly different from today's professional athletics landscape. During the 1950s, elite sport officially operated under strict amateur rules. Olympic athletes were forbidden from accepting prize money or earning a living directly from competition, although unofficial financial arrangements existed in many sports. Zátopek himself never raced for appearance fees or lucrative prize purses. Instead, he served as an officer in the Czechoslovak People's Army, receiving a military salary while representing his country. Running brought him glory, but not personal wealth.

It was within that environment that his famous words carried genuine meaning. For Zátopek, success was never driven by the promise of money. He believed the greatest performances were fueled by hope, ambition, discipline, and the courage to pursue dreams that seemed impossible. Those qualities, rather than financial incentives, formed the foundation of lasting excellence.

With the benefit of history, his words carry even greater significance. In 1968, during the Prague Spring, Zátopek openly supported democratic reforms in Czechoslovakia. When the movement was crushed, he paid a heavy personal price for standing by his principles. He was stripped of his military rank, removed from public life, and forced into years of manual labor. The man who had once stood proudly atop the Olympic podium found himself performing physically demanding jobs, far removed from the stadiums where he had inspired millions.

His story reminds us that the values he expressed were not empty words crafted for public admiration. He lived by them, even when doing so came at enormous personal cost. His belief that hope and conviction mattered more than material rewards became evident not only in the races he won, but also in the hardships he endured with remarkable dignity.

Distance running has changed dramatically since Zátopek's era. Today's elite athletes compete in a fully professional sport where prize money, sponsorship contracts, appearance fees, and endorsement deals can be worth millions. Success on the track and roads now offers opportunities that were unimaginable during the age of amateur competition. Professionalism has transformed the sport, allowing athletes to train full-time, access world-class coaching and sports science, and build financially secure careers.

Yet despite these changes, the essence of Zátopek's message has never lost its relevance.

Every elite runner naturally hopes to earn a good living from years of dedication and sacrifice. There is nothing wrong with financial success, and the rewards available today have elevated the standard of competition across the world. But history consistently shows that money alone is rarely enough to sustain greatness. The athletes whose careers endure the longest are often those driven by an inner passion to improve, to test their limits, and to chase excellence for its own sake. Financial rewards become the result of that commitment, not the reason for it.

When competition is motivated solely by wealth, its deeper purpose can fade. But when an athlete races with genuine belief, relentless determination, and an unwavering dream, extraordinary performances often follow naturally.

That is why Emil Zátopek's words continue to resonate across generations. His legacy extends far beyond Olympic medals and world records. It lives in every runner who laces up their shoes with a goal that cannot be measured in dollars, every athlete who refuses to surrender when the race becomes painful, and every competitor who understands that the greatest victories begin long before the finish line.

The economics of distance running may have evolved beyond recognition, but the heart of the sport remains unchanged. Every athlete still arrives at the starting line carrying something far more valuable than money—hope in their heart and dreams in their head. Those invisible qualities have always been, and will always remain, the true fuel of greatness.

Winning a major championship is never just about crossing the finish line first. Behind every gold medal lies a carefully crafted race plan, and Josh Kerr's unforgettable Commonwealth Games triumph in Glasgow was a perfect example of tactical brilliance meeting extraordinary finishing speed.

While the final time of 3:54.12 for the mile will be remembered as the official result, the split times reveal a much deeper story—one of patience, precision, and devastating acceleration when it mattered most.

Kerr resisted any temptation to force the pace from the gun. Instead, he settled into a controlled rhythm, allowing the opening stages to unfold naturally. His first four 100-metre segments—14.9, 15.1, 15.3 and 15.1 seconds—brought him through 400 metres in 60.4 seconds, a measured opening that conserved valuable energy while keeping him firmly in contention.

The second lap remained equally composed. Passing 500 metres in 15.3 seconds before recording splits of 15.7, 16.2 and 15.4, Kerr reached 800 metres in 2:03.0. The pace had eased, but that was exactly where the Scottish star wanted to be. Rather than chasing early speed, he was setting the stage for a decisive finish.

Everything changed after halfway.

Kerr gradually increased the tempo with smooth, controlled acceleration. His 900-metre and 1,000-metre splits of 15.2 and 14.9 seconds signalled that the race was beginning to stretch. He then surged through 1,100 metres in 14.3 seconds before covering the next 100 metres in just 13.4 seconds to reach 1,200 metres in 3:00.8.

From there, the home crowd witnessed championship running at its finest.

Instead of fading, Kerr became even stronger. He reeled off three consecutive 100-metre splits of 13.4, 13.4 and 12.8 seconds, dismantling the field with every stride. His final 100 metres were covered in a stunning 12.5 seconds, sealing an emphatic victory and sending the Glasgow crowd into celebration.

The progression of his race was remarkable. After opening with relaxed 15-second splits, Kerr transformed the closing stages into a demonstration of world-class speed endurance. His ability to accelerate continuously over the final 600 metres highlighted not only exceptional fitness but also supreme confidence in his race plan.

Championship middle-distance racing is rarely about producing the fastest possible time from the start. More often, it rewards athletes who understand when to conserve energy and when to unleash everything they have left. Kerr executed that philosophy to perfection.

His split chart paints the picture of a runner who never panicked, never wasted effort, and saved his greatest weapon for the closing stages. It was a textbook display of patience followed by relentless aggression—a combination that turned a tactical race into a memorable Commonwealth gold medal performance.

For aspiring middle-distance runners, Kerr's Glasgow masterpiece offers an important lesson: the strongest finish often belongs not to the athlete who runs hardest from the gun, but to the one who knows exactly when to make their move. On home soil, Josh Kerr timed that move to perfection, producing a performance that will stand as one of the defining moments of the championships.

At just nine years old, Oliver Smith has achieved something extraordinary—not by chasing records or medals, but by proving that determination, compassion, and consistency can create a life-changing impact.

Hailing from Wombwell, on the outskirts of Barnsley, Oliver set himself a remarkable challenge at the beginning of the year. Rather than attempting a single marathon, he decided to complete the equivalent distance of nine marathons over several months. From January 1 to April 26, the young runner covered an incredible 380 kilometres, breaking the distance into manageable daily runs suitable for a child his age.

His routine was built on dedication. Saturdays were reserved for parkrun events, Sundays for junior parkrun, while the remaining kilometres were steadily accumulated throughout the week. Averaging approximately 3.3 kilometres each day, Oliver never lost sight of the goal that inspired every step.

The challenge carried deep personal meaning. Last summer, Oliver's father, Tom Smith, suffered a devastating health setback after losing most of the vision in one eye. Medical examinations revealed a 4-centimetre meningioma wrapped around his optic nerve, leading to a complex 12-hour operation at the Royal Hallamshire Hospital in Sheffield.

Throughout the family's difficult journey, The Brain Tumour Charity provided invaluable guidance, support, and reassurance. Grateful for the help his family received, Oliver decided he wanted to give back in the most meaningful way he could. He launched a fundraising campaign with an initial goal of raising £2,000 to support others facing similar challenges.

What followed exceeded everyone's expectations.

Oliver brought his incredible fundraising challenge to a memorable conclusion at the Mini London Marathon, finishing on the very same day his mother, Hannah Smith, completed her first-ever London Marathon. It was a fitting family celebration of courage, resilience, and perseverance.

By the time Oliver crossed the finish line, donations had soared beyond £16,500—more than eight times his original target. His remarkable achievement captured the hearts of supporters, demonstrating how one young boy's determination could unite an entire community behind an important cause.

For Oliver, however, the journey is far from over. Inspired by the overwhelming support and the difference his efforts have made, he has already begun working toward his next fundraising challenge.

His story serves as a powerful reminder that age is no barrier to making a meaningful difference. Sometimes, the greatest acts of courage are measured not by speed or distance, but by the willingness to take one small step after another for the benefit of others.

Oliver Smith's inspiring journey is more than a fundraising success—it is a testament to the strength of family, the power of kindness, and the extraordinary impact that can begin with the simplest decision to help.

Sometimes the smallest opportunity creates the greatest triumph, and Jamaica's Navasky Anderson proved exactly that with a stunning performance to capture the men's 800m title at the 2026 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow.

Less than 24 hours after scraping into the final by the slimmest of margins, Anderson produced the race of his life, surging to victory in 1:45.33 to complete one of the most remarkable comeback stories of the championships. His gold medal was not only a reward for exceptional talent but also for courage, determination, and unwavering belief when everything was on the line.

The journey to the top nearly ended in the semifinals. Locked in an intense battle with England's Max Burgin for the final qualification place, Anderson threw himself across the finish line in a dramatic dive, stopping the clock at 1:45.38. That desperate effort earned him the last available place in the final as the fastest non-automatic qualifier, keeping his Commonwealth dream alive by the narrowest of margins.

With another chance in his hands, the Jamaican made sure it counted.

In a fiercely contested final, Anderson displayed outstanding tactical awareness and patience throughout the opening stages before unleashing a devastating finishing kick down the home straight. His perfectly timed acceleration left the rest of the field with no answer as he crossed the finish line first, securing a memorable Commonwealth crown and one of Jamaica's standout victories of the Games.

Australia's Luke Boyes delivered an impressive performance to claim the silver medal in 1:45.93, while Kenya's Wyclife Kinyamal battled strongly to take bronze in 1:46.12 after another highly competitive championship race.

Anderson's unforgettable triumph will be remembered as one of the defining moments of Glasgow 2026—a powerful reminder that championships are not always won by the fastest qualifier, but often by the athlete who refuses to surrender. From a fearless dive that kept his hopes alive to a brilliant gold-medal performance less than a day later, the Jamaican wrote one of the most inspiring chapters of these Commonwealth Games.

Men's 800m Final Results

1. Navasky Anderson (Jamaica) — 1:45.33

2. Luke Boyes (Australia) — 1:45.93

3. Wyclife Kinyamal (Kenya) — 1:46.12

Navasky Anderson arrived in the final as the last man to qualify, but he left Glasgow as the Commonwealth champion—a remarkable transformation that perfectly captures the unpredictable beauty of championship athletics.